Meghan’s Netflix show, "With Love, Meghan," has landed her in a sticky situation yet again, but this isn't just about noodles and sauce—it's about integrity, originality, and a growing pattern of taking credit where it may not be due.
Let’s set the scene. Meghan, dressed in what is likely an expensive linen apron, is in her meticulously curated Montecito kitchen, preparing what she calls a cherished family pasta dish featuring kale, lemon, tomatoes, and parmesan. Sitting with her is her longtime makeup artist, Daniel Martin, as she proudly claims this dish is a staple in the Sussex household.
Seems harmless enough, right? Well, not quite. Eagle-eyed viewers and British food critics quickly noticed that this so-called "family favorite" bears an uncanny resemblance to a recipe from renowned British chef Anna Jones. The dish—kale, tomato, and lemon magic one-pot spaghetti—was published in Jones' 2015 cookbook, A Modern Way to Cook. And when I say resemblance, I mean almost identical—except for a basil leaf here and a chili flake there.
While there’s likely no legal consequence since Meghan didn’t write the recipe down on the show, culinary etiquette dictates that credit should always be given where it’s due. Respected chef and food writer Xanthe Clay even weighed in on the controversy, calling it "dismal" and pointing out the clear lack of attribution.
But should we really be surprised? This isn’t the first time Meghan has been linked to taking undue credit. Rumors have long circulated about her former relationship with celebrity chef Cory Vitiello, suggesting that a major factor in their split was Meghan allegedly taking full credit for a pasta dish he originally created at a dinner party. Sound familiar?
Adding more fuel to the fire, celebrity chef Jameson Stocks recently revealed that Netflix approached him to consult on a lifestyle program—one that he soon realized was Meghan’s. He declined, citing concerns that she would take credit for his work, just as she allegedly has in the past. Reports suggest Netflix hired multiple consultants for the show, hinting that most, if not all, of the recipes featured were not Meghan’s original creations.
And that’s the baffling part. Meghan has a massive platform, a production team, and a multi-million-dollar Netflix deal. Why not simply acknowledge her inspirations? A simple, "I was inspired by Anna Jones’ fantastic recipe and made it my own" would have sufficed. But instead, we get yet another instance where Meghan positions herself as the innovator, despite the evidence suggesting otherwise.
Compare this to the approach taken by working royals like Catherine, Princess of Wales. Whether she’s launching an early childhood initiative or supporting mental health causes, Catherine has always ensured that she acknowledges the experts behind the work. She highlights and amplifies their efforts, rather than making it about herself. And then there’s Prince William, who dedicates himself to projects like the Earthshot Prize and homelessness initiatives without ever falsely claiming to be the sole architect of the cause.
It all boils down to authenticity. The true working royals, including King Charles and Queen Camilla, dedicate themselves to service, spending decades working closely with experts to create meaningful impact. They don’t chase personal glory; they genuinely care about their causes. Meanwhile, in Montecito, we have Meghan Markle—attempting to present borrowed recipes as cherished family traditions on a show that seems more concerned with style over substance.
Perhaps most disappointing is what this signifies on a larger scale. The Sussexes had so much potential when they first stepped onto the global stage. They could have used their platform for meaningful work, collaborating with experts and making a real difference. Instead, their narrative has become one of commercial deals, controversies, and now, alleged "pasta plagiarism."
At the heart of this fiasco lies an important question—why? Why take credit for something that isn’t yours when you have access to all the resources in the world? Is the need for admiration so great that honesty takes a back seat?
Netflix also plays a role in this, knowingly enabling such behavior in pursuit of viewership. At what point does a platform have a responsibility to ensure content creators adhere to ethical storytelling?
And let’s not forget Anna Jones—the talented chef whose innovative recipe was seemingly repackaged on a global stage without recognition. Imagine working hard to build a career, only to see your work subtly taken by someone with a far bigger platform. It’s disheartening, to say the least.
This is precisely why working royals are so respected. They acknowledge the experts they collaborate with, never pretending to be pioneers in fields they haven’t worked in. Catherine, William, and King Charles all understand their positions come with responsibility, and that giving credit where it’s due is not just ethical—it’s what makes them true leaders.
Meanwhile, back in Montecito, we have... pasta. A fitting metaphor for the ongoing pattern of self-promotion over substance.
One has to wonder—what would Princess Diana think of all this? A woman who dedicated her life to humanitarian causes, genuinely connecting with people and shining a light on neglected issues. Would she recognize her younger son in the man who now appears alongside his wife in a Netflix cooking show marred by accusations of appropriation?
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Should Meghan have credited Anna Jones? Do you think this is part of a larger pattern? And most importantly, how does this compare to how the working royals conduct themselves?
One thing is certain—Harry and Meghan had the chance to be a powerful force for good. Instead, they’re making headlines over a recipe scandal. And frankly, that’s the real tragedy.
